


Dean Gets Therapy

by mangotangerine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Repairing Relationships, Therapy, psychologist, working through emo feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangotangerine/pseuds/mangotangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's tired of feeling so much anger, betrayal, and sadness in light of the betrayals and losses of people he loves. He's urged by Cas and Jody Mills to seek professional help. He's irritated, distrusting, and doesn't want to go, but once he's in the office and talking to Dr. Miller he feels a weight leave his shoulders and agrees to at least try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Gets Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration and description of therapy taken from my many years of therapy and also my short stint in a psych hospital.
> 
> P.S. everyone experiences shitty stuff, and therapy is awesome once you find the right therapist.

“So, what brings you to my office, Dean?”

Dean slumped in his chair, irritated, leveling the shrink across from him with a less-than-impressed stare. Said shrink smiled patiently at Dean, pen in hand poised to take notes in the bright yellow legal pad.

“My… friend,” he groused. “Cas. He said, and I quote,” here Dean fumbled with his cell-phone, pulling it from his front pocket. He tapped the ‘messages’ icon, pulling up the conversation with Castiel and scrolling up until he got to the message he wanted to read out. “It was after I complained about something Sammy did, oh, Sam’s my brother, and Cas told me: ‘Your childish and codependent coping mechanisms will cut you down and send you to your grave with cirrhosis of the liver from drinking away your problems faster than any demon or vampire could hope to, and this time I will not be able to raise you from perdition, you idiot. You need professional help and I am sick of being Hermes for you and your brother.’” Dean let out a tired sigh after reading it, looking back up at the person that Jody Mills had recommended to help with his ‘issues’ after Cas complained to her about Dean and Sam being ‘incorrigible imbeciles’ and ‘emotionally-stunted fools, which is saying something, because I am _an angel_ and even I understand human emotions better’. He locked his phone and slid it back into the pocket of his jeans.

“So, shrink, think you can help me?” Dean finally asked, irritated at the raised-eyebrow-look that the therapist had on his face.

Said therapist leaned forward a bit. “I understand that you may be uncomfortable seeing a psychologist, but I have a doctorate degree and over 15 years of experience, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t call me a _shrink_ ,” he said with a clinical smile.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah, sorry doc…” He had promised Jody. 5 appointments. Just 5. Then he didn’t have to go anymore if he didn’t want to. He took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out, and leaned up straight.

There was a short silence before his therapist spoke. “So, your friend Cas said quite a lot to you in that one message. Has this been a problem for a long time?”

Dean laughed lowly. “Cas’s mouth? I dunno, a few years, he says some weird and annoying shit sometimes.”

“No, the problems that Cas brought up in your conversation.”

“Oh, uhhh… I mean, I guess as long as me and Sammy have been brothers? We don’t always fight, but well, we’ve been through some shit, so… err, sorry for swearing.”

“We’re adults, Dean, feel free to swear.” He paused, noting something on his legal pad. “Would you say you and Sam are close?”

“Hell yeah, Sam and I are all each other have anymore. Well, except Cas, but he’s not really reliable, you know? Goes off the deep end occasionally, but I guess we all do.”

Dean’s therapist, Dr. Miller, jotted something else down. “Off the deep end?” he questioned, looking back up at Dean, who looked apprehensively from Dr. Miller to the clipboard he held. Jody said this guy was _safe_ and would understand, so…

“Well, I mean, Sam got caught up with some demons and we had to stop the apocalypse, and I went to hell but Cas saved me, uhhh and then there’s all the hunting and shit, then the leviathan issue, and Cas going crazy _again_ , seriously that guy needs to stop being so naïve, thought he was God for a while,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And then Sam losing his soul, and getting it back and fucking hallucinating Lucifer everywhere, I mean, it’s a lot, and Sam’s such a fucking idiot, he’s just as bad as Cas except he’s more of a little bitch about it.”

Dr. Miller stared at Dean, slowly writing more in the legal pad. Dean noticed the stare and frowned. “Jody said you’d understand,” he said accusingly. “I’m not schizophrenic!”

The doctor nodded. “You are not the first hunter to find himself in my office, Dean,” he said reassuringly.  He ignored the urge to say ‘but even this is some crazy shit, holy fuck’ after that.

“Your situation is… a bit more complicated than what I’ve seen before, but I am confident I will be able to help you,” the man smiled placatingly.

Dean wasn’t 100% convinced. He reminded himself, just 5 appointments, that’s all he needed, then he never had to come back again.

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, tapping a nervous rhythm on his leg with his fingertips. His tone of voice and body language positively _oozed_ discomfort.

“So, your relationships with Cas and Sam, despite both of them ‘going off the deep end’ occasionally, sound quite close still.”

“Cas says we’re codependent.”

Dr. Miller smiled evenly. “It’s a bit early in our sessions for me to be comfortable making any concrete professional conclusions about you and your relationships, although it is helpful to know what the people around you think about the situation.”

Dean nodded, feeling just the tiniest bit relieved. That was one of the things he didn’t want – some damn shrink jumping to conclusions and telling him how he was supposed to feel when the shrink didn’t even _know_ him.

“It also sounds like you may have some resentment from past events.”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “If your brother, who you helped raise, ignored your advice and drank demon blood in an attempt to stop the apocalypse but ended up actually started it, and yelled at you for even giving advice, you would have some damn resentment too.”

“It’s not an accusation, Dean. You’re right in understanding that resentment is a natural reaction to situations like that.”

Dean was quite confused now. What? Did this therapist even know what he was doing? Weren’t they supposed to be like ‘yeah you’re fucked up, here’s some pills, let’s do some breathing exercises, now tell me how you feel’?

“However, just like anger and grief, they can hurt the person feeling them and the relationships that person engages in,” Dr. Miller continued. “So that resentment and anger and hurt needs to be detangled and dealt with, and you’ll feel better for it.”

“How the fuck would _you_ know?” Dean’s irritation came back ten-fold. “About what people need to do with their own emotions? So what if I’m pissed off at Sammy for being a damn idiot, and Bobby for dying, and Dad for sticking me with all this shit, and fucking Cas for betraying me _again and again_ , and _myself_ because I keep getting people killed—“ Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “How would you know about any of that?”

“Dean, I am human too, I have pain and anger and resentment, and I know from my _personal_ experience, and my 15 years of professional experience, that people feel _much_ better when they work through the problems that continue tripping them up instead of ignoring them and letting them fester. I think Cas is quite wise, that resentment and anger can become a poison that slowly kills you.”

Dean covered his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing that annoying stinging feeling to go away, his breath coming in a little sharper and quicker than before. Holy fuck, why had he said all that, and how was this guy not yelling at him for vomiting all of that bullshit all over his office? What the hell?

The therapist was quiet, giving Dean the silence and time he needed to calm down. A few tense minutes later, Dean allowed his hands to fall away from his face and he took in one long, shaky breath. He opened his eyes, breathing in deeply again and letting the breath slip out of him. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Dean. This is a safe space.”

Dean frowns, looking at the artwork on the wall instead of at the face of Dr. Miller. He felt something that felt like embarrassment and shame, but Dean didn’t feel _embarrassment and shame_ , so he must be wrong or something.

“Right, well… anyway. It’s just fucked up. Everything’s fucked up,” Dean said with a sigh, deflating.

“Let me share with you an analogy, it helps people new to therapy understand the purpose of it and the process. The things you struggle with are all pushed to one corner of your mind, all tangled up and interconnected, that you don’t go near, unless something forces you back into that corner, and then you get overwhelmed and it all spills out.”

Dean picked at the hem of his shirt.

“I am the mirror, the safety net, and the magnifying glass. I will show you what you need to see, and we’ll go through and untangle all of the pain and hurt from the big, overwhelming mass and separate it into bits that are manageable. We’ll go through each one, starting with the ones that _you_ decide are most important, and I’ll guide you through. My magnifying glass will allow you to see the issues up close, so you will be able to identify them and separate one thing from another. I will be your safety net, when it’s too overwhelming and you lash out or try to shut down. As long as you are here and are willing to let me help you, I will prevent you from falling and prevent that dark mass within you from drowning you.”

Dean noticed his breathing was shallow, and head buzzing with anxiety as he listened. What an impossible thing to be promising. People didn’t just sit and listen like that, especially not to _adults_ who should be able to handle their own shit.

“That’s impossible,” he said out loud, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Nobody can… I mean, I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake, I can handle this shit myself, I don’t need someone else to—and you can’t help, I mean, you’re just gonna snap like everyone else,” he laughed again, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Nobody can help.”

“That’s possible,” Dr. Miller said evenly. “The client-therapist relationship requires a lot of trust, willingness from the client to feel the emotional pain and process it again requires a lot of trust, and trust is not easily given and is easily broken.”

“So why the fuck would you think you can do this?”

“15 years of experience, Dean. I don’t expect anyone to take my promises at face-value, especially when people have been disappointed before. I can’t promise to fix you, because it doesn’t work like that, but I do promise not to give up on you, as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”

“Yeah, and if I trust you and you fail then I’ll just have even more fucked up trust issues.”

“That’s the risk. You have to decide whether or not that outweighs the possible gain.”

Dr. Miller was quiet, allowing Dean the time to think. The minute hand on the clock ticked by one more minute, then two, then three, and Dr. Miller still didn’t speak. Four. Five.

“I promised Jody 5 sessions.”

“You can lie if you’d like.”

“I don’t… want to lie like that, not to her.”

“Then you can come in and we don’t have to talk about anything serious, if you don’t want to.”

Dean shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I… I said I would try,” his voice was quiet.

Dr. Miller smiled. “We start with small steps. You won’t just jump into the deep end without me teaching you how to swim first.”

Dean closed his eyes again, resting his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he said, no heat behind the swear. The fights with Sam were getting worse, a few times it had seemed like he was going to lose his brother. And Cas… how could he deal with feeling both affection and anger at the same time? It _was_ tearing him apart. “I guess I can… we can try,” he said, finally. “But if it doesn’t work, well, then whatever happens after that is your fault, I guess.”

Dr. Miller smiled kindly. “I promise to try my very best, Dean.”

“15 years of experience?”

“15 years of experience.”

“And a doctorate degree? Not just some… stupid 2-year schooling at some wishy-washy frou-frou bullshit therapy schools?”

“10 years of education in the field of Psychology, 6 in graduate school. My doctorate degree is in clinical psychology. From Loyola. If that means anything.”

“Not really, but I guess if you’re name-dropping then Loyola must be pretty good,” Dean said with a shrug. He smiled, apprehensively, at Dr. Miller. “So… okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to put your trust in me, Dean.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay cut it with the ‘I’m glad’ bullshit, let’s just get started.”

Dr. Miller raised an eyebrow, looking down at his notes. “All right. Let’s start with making a plan. Let’s pick the thing you want to work on most, and pick some goals.”

“My goal is to get my relationship with Sammy back.”

“That’s a bit broad, Dean, let’s narrow things down a bit. From what you’ve said, I’ve seen a theme of betrayal, which I suspect plays a large part in your strained relationships.”

“Yeah, well, it’s happened a lot,” Dean grumbles, staring at the wall again.

“Which one stands out the most?”

“Fucking ditching me for a damn demon!”

“Then that will be the first thing we work through. Now, goals. We want to pick realistic, short-term goals.”

“Maybe to stop wanting to break Sam’s nose whenever I think about it.”

“There’s goal number one. Now I’m going to give you homework, and when we meet next week, we’ll begin the process of working through that.”

“Homework? You didn’t fucking mention that!”

“Relax, Dean. You don’t need to write a book report or do math worksheets,” Dr. Miller said with a quiet laugh. “Your homework will be to pay attention to your emotions and reactions. When something makes you very angry, or sad, or any strong emotion, even happiness, I want you to pause and consider what prompted that reaction. We need to practice being aware of what we are feeling, what makes us feel those emotions, and then how to deal with them in real-time so they don’t add to that corner of darkness within us. So, if your brother says something that makes you angry, remember what he said and the emotion it made you feel, write it down somewhere, and bring your notes with you to your next appointment.”

“What if I forget?”

“Even bringing in 1 or 2 examples is useful, Dean, but you need to try.”

Dean took a deep breath, nodding. “Right. Pay attention to people pissing me off and what they did to piss me off.”

“Remember, _any_ emotion is useful.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Got it, doc.”

“Let’s set another appointment for next week, then.”

Dr. Miller pulled out his appointment book, deciding on a time with Dean and marking it down. “I’ll call you a day before the appointment to remind you. See you next week, Dean.”

Dean nodded, walking out of the office on shaky legs, sliding into the Impala and dropping his keys on the passenger seat. He closed his eyes, getting his breath and nerves under control, and called Jody.

She picked up and immediately asked, “how did it go?!”

Dean’s smile was small, but it was there. “I feel… I dunno, man, it was weird, and he gave me some fucking homework, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t bad.”

“I’m so happy, Dean,” she said, letting out a relieved sigh. “I’m so happy.”

“Yeah yeah, shut up, I just wanted to let you know. If he fucks up or something I won’t see him again, though. 5 sessions or not.”

“Sure, Dean,” she said with laughter. “Take care of yourself. And… thanks for indulging me.”

Dean’s face softened, fingers playing over the leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah, sure,” he said quietly. “Anything for you.”

He hung up the phone, staring at it for a few moments before dialing Cas.

“Hello, Dean.” Like a statement. Not even the standard human ‘hello?’.

“Never change, Cas.”

Silence. “I, ah… I will remain the same?” The confusion was evident in his face, even if Dean couldn’t see it.

“I saw a shrink. Like you said.”

Another pause in the conversation. “Did it help?”

“I dunno, Cas, but… I mean… this guy seems to know what he’s talking about so…” he felt the little glimmer of hope within him and was angry at it. Hope just caused pain. He took a deep breath and noted his anger, and the cause, shaking his head a little. He had no idea what was so important with paying attention to that shit, but he supposed Dr. Miller would go over it next session.

“Well… I hope he can help. And if he doesn’t… I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t apologize, Cas. I have a good feeling about this. And I never have good feelings about anything anymore.”

“Nothing?”

Dean grinned. “Well, _some_ things. But you know what I mean.”

Cas made a noise of understanding, almost lost in the tinny sound from bad reception.

“I’ll see you soon, Cas.”

“I will be here waiting, Dean.”

Dean cut the call again, taking a deep breath. He could do this. He’s a strong, manly Winchester, and Winchesters can do anything. He slid the keys into the ignition and shifted into gear, driving out of the parking lot and heading back home. He could do this.


End file.
